


Just A Friendly Gesture

by polygondusted



Category: Electronic Dance Music RPF
Genre: M/M, Paranormal AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 02:47:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7873147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polygondusted/pseuds/polygondusted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dillon discovers that he's not entirely alone in his house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just A Friendly Gesture

It's three o'clock in the morning when Dillon hears a door slam in his house. Now, this wouldn't be unusual if he had been partying with some friends and a lone straggler finally decided to go home, but Dillon hasn't had a party at his house in a week.

 _Okay, I probably just left a window open and there's a draft that blew the door closed. Yeah, that's gotta be it_ , thinks Dillon to himself. No reason to get scared. He yawns, rolls over in his bed, and pulls the covers up underneath his chin. He was finally drifting off when he hears another door slam, this time even closer to his room.

Dillon's eyes fly open. _Fuck this shit, I'm seeing what's up_. He grabs his phone off his nightstand and pads cautiously over to the door. He opens Snapchat to document his late-night venture because hey, if he's gonna get murdered by a burglar in his own house, he might as well share it with his fans.

Holding his phone out in front of him, Dillon opens the door and steps out into the hallway. His voice still thick with sleep, he whispers, "Guys, I'm pretty sure there's a burglar in my house. If I die tonight, tell Hardwell he can have my Versace pillows." He doesn't want to admit to himself that he's a little bit afraid, so naturally, he resorts to humor to hide his worries. He shuffles along until he reaches the lightswitch in the middle of the hall and flips it on, whipping his head around wildly.

"Who's there?" he calls out, slightly relieved when he doesn't receive an answer. _Maybe it was just a draft after all_ , he thinks.

All of a sudden, the door to his room slams shut with a gust of air. Dillon flings himself against the wall, pressing his back to it. "FUCK," he swears aloud. "I think I just fucking shit my pants, what the _fuck _."__

Exaggerations aside, his heart is practically beating out of his chest and he struggles to regain his composure. He switches the camera so that it's facing him and zooms in.

Lowering his voice, he whispers, "Send help. There's something in my house and I don't know if it's a burglar or a ghost or who knows what but I'm not alone." He doesn't acknowledge that he's only half-joking.

Dillon knows that ghosts aren't real, or at least he _thinks_ he knows that ghosts aren't real, but he decides to humor his Snapchat followers nonetheless. He sprints into the kitchen, socks sliding on the wooden floor. He grabs a piece of paper and a pen and begins to write furiously. Two minutes later, he has a makeshift Ouija board that he hopes will suffice in place of a real one.

"Okay, okay. I'm gonna try to talk to the ghost that may or may not be haunting me. Wish me luck," he says to his phone. He leans it against a stack of magazines on the table next to the paper Ouija board and takes a deep breath.

"Hey, ghost-thing, yeah, you! What are you doing in my fucking house?" His voice sounds all too loud in the dark kitchen. He waits for the Ouija board to start doing its thing, but nothing happens.

Dillon barely gets out one word before the paper Ouija board is swept off the table and floats to the ground. "SHIT," he screams, pure terror lacing his voice.

Dillon runs out of the kitchen and into the bathroom, locking the door behind him with shaky fingers. _God, what do I do? I can't just let this thing stay in my house_ , thinks Dillon as he attempts to steady his breathing. He turns on the faucet and splashes the cold water on his face, trying to come up with a solution.

"You know, hiding in the bathroom isn't exactly going to keep a ghost out," says an unfamiliar voice.

Dillon nearly has a heart attack and he lets out a scream loud enough to wake the neighbors. "WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?" he cries out, covering his face with his hands in a gesture of self-defense.

Dillon's eyes grow wide through his fingers as a slim figure appears right in front of him, slowly fizzling into existence.

"How did you—I don't understand... How did you get in my house? What's going on?" Dillon's expression is bewildered and he's somewhat in shock.

"I'm a ghost, dummy. Isn't it obvious?" The figure crosses his arms over his chest as he looks Dillon over. "You okay? You seem pretty tense."

Dillon sputters before spitting out a hasty response. "Yeah, no, I'm—I'm just... Just confused." He's still trying to process the situation, not quite grasping the fact that someone just appeared out of thin air in his bathroom.

"So... what are you doing here? Do you have unfinished business or something and that's why you're not in, like, the spirit realm or whatever?" Dillon questions.

The figure chuckles and says, "Yeah, something like that. My name is Anton, by the way."

 _Okay, so at least he has a name_ , thinks Dillon. He glances at Anton's face, surprised to find that his features are not entirely unappealing. Dillon doesn't know what he was expecting a ghost to look like, but he definitely wasn't expecting it to look this attractive.

Anton blinks at Dillon before speaking again. "And your name is...?"

"Oh, uh, I'm Dillon."

"Nice to meet you, Dillon." Anton holds out his hand to shake Dillon's, but Dillon pauses.

"Wait, won't my hand go right through you?"

"Common misunderstanding," explains Anton. "When ghosts fully materialize, we can touch objects in the living world as if we were living, too."

"Oh. Cool."

Anton takes Dillon's hand into his own and a blush spreads across Dillon's cheeks when Anton gingerly lifts it up to his mouth and kisses it, his lips soft against Dillon's skin. Dillon chokes back a surprised squeak, causing Anton to look up at him.

"What, you've never had a ghost kiss your hand before? Where I'm from, it's just a friendly gesture."

"I—I see," says Dillon, suddenly bashful.

He looks at Anton again, his hand still tingling from where Anton had just kissed it. Anton meets his gaze and quirks a dark eyebrow.

"Like what you see?" he asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Dillon's cheeks grow even redder as he babbles something nonsensical in response.

Anton flashes him a quick grin before changing the topic (to Dillon's relief).

"Hey, do you have any food? This physical form can get pretty hungry."

"Yeah, uh, help yourself to whatever's in the kitchen," Dillon says.

"Thanks."

Anton strolls into the kitchen with Dillon on his heels. Making his way to the fridge, he pokes around and pulls out an apple. He bites into it as he sits himself down on one of the bar stools in front of the counter.

"So," says Anton conversationally, "you should tell me more about yourself."

"More? What do you mean, 'more'?" Dillon asks, his brow furrowing.

"Well, more than what I've already picked up by staying in your house for the past few days."

 _A few days?_ thinks Dillon. _He probably knows more about me than he wants to already if he's been here for a few days._

Dillon clears his throat and says, "I'm, uh, really into music. I've been messing around with some new tracks lately."

"Awesome. Let me hear one?"

"I—uh, sure," says Dillon. He grabs his laptop from the kitchen table and sets it down in front of Anton. He opens a track and presses play, chewing on his lip as he watches Anton's reaction.

Anton nods his head to the beat and taps his fingers on the counter. "I like this, man. Very fun."

Dillon's secretly proud of himself for winning the approval of a ghost. A hot ghost, at that.

"Thanks, Anton."

—

Four hours later, Dillon and Anton find themselves still chatting as the sun rises and daylight streams through the windows.

Within those four hours, Dillon heard the story of how Anton became a ghost and Anton learned that Dillon's personality is just as cute as his looks.

When they're all talked-out and sitting in comfortable silence, Anton lets out a little sigh. "I should go," he says quietly.

"What? Why?" asks Dillon, frowning.

"Usually people don't want ghosts hanging around their house for more than a couple days. I don't blame you if you want to get rid of me."

Dillon puts his hand on Anton's shoulder and gives it a little shake. "Are you kidding me? This is the coolest thing to ever happen to me. Plus, we actually have a lot in common. I like talking to you."

Anton stares at Dillon, his eyebrows creased. "Are you sure you don't mind me staying here for a little longer?"

"I'd love it if you did."

Anton's face breaks into a euphoric smile. He leans in closer to Dillon and presses a tiny kiss to his stubbly cheek.

"Was that just a friendly gesture, too?"

"Nope," replies Anton casually. "That," he says, "was because I wanted to kiss you."

**Author's Note:**

> My first Dillton fic! Hope you found it enjoyable. <3


End file.
